Free Joe Steele by Harry Turtledove

enthusiastically than ones full of ordinary folks.
    â€œI can be rough. I can be harsh. But I am only rough and harsh toward those who harm the people of this great country,” Joe Steele said. “What is my duty? To do my job and to fight for the people. Quitting is not in my character. Whatever I have to do, I will do it.”
    How did Franklin D. Roosevelt feel about that? He knew Joe Steele wasn’t kidding, anyhow. And a whole fat lot of good knowing did him. Mike shivered, though the day wasn’t cold.
    â€œWe will do whatever we have to do to get the United States on its feet again. You cannot set things to rights while you have silk gloves on.” The President held up his hairy hands. He wasn’t wearing gloves of any kind. He went on, “The ones who wear silk gloves, they use them to take from ordinary people without leaving any fingerprints. When banks fail, they steal the people’s money. Have you ever seen a hungry banker? Has anyone in the history of the world ever seen a hungry banker? If I have to choose between the people and the bankers, I will choose the people. We will nationalize the banks and save the people’s money.”
    This time, the applause nearly blasted him off the podium. Ever since the big stock crash, banks had failed by the hundreds—no, by the thousands. And every time a bank went under, the depositors who’d put money into it and couldn’t pull the cash out fast enough went down the drain with it. Everybody who was listening to him had either lost money that way him- or herself or knew someone else who had. Bankers were some of the most hated people in the whole country these days.
    Mike looked over to the stands full of officials. Herbert Hoover wasshaking his head, and he wasn’t the only one. He didn’t understand the nerve Joe Steele had struck. That he didn’t understand was one big reason he hadn’t won his second term.
    President Hoover had tried to ignore the building whirlwind—and it had swept him away. President Steele would try to ride it. He’d have trouble doing worse. Mike feared he’d also have trouble doing better.

IV
    Charlie Sullivan and a couple of other reporters watched Senator Carter Glass walk into the White House to confer with Joe Steele. Joe Steele had summoned Congress to a special session. Winning the kind of majority he had in the House made getting what he wanted easier.
    President Steele didn’t have that kind of majority in the Senate. And a lot of Southern Democrats were more conservative than Republicans from the rest of the country. Carter Glass, a Virginian, was a case in point. He’d been born before the Civil War started, and apparently hadn’t changed his views a great deal since. He loudly opposed nationalizing the banking system. Since he’d been Secretary of the Treasury in the Wilson administration, his views counted.
    One of the other newsmen, a skinny cub with the impressive handle of Virginius Dabney, was from the
Richmond Times
. “I’ve got a dollar that says Joe Steele won’t make him change his mind,” he said, lighting a Camel.
    â€œYou’re on,” Charlie said at once. They shook hands to make things official.
    The kid from Virginia was in a gloating mood. “I’m gonna buy myself a nice dinner with your dollar,” he said. “You’ve got no idea what a pigheaded old coot Carter Glass has turned into. Neither does the President, or he would’ve picked somebody else to try to get around the logjam in the Senate.”
    â€œWell, you could be right,” Charlie said.
    â€œDamn right, I’m right,” Dabney broke in.
    â€œHang on. I wasn’t done yet.” Charlie held up his right hand, palm out, like a cop stopping traffic. “You could be right, but don’t get too sure yet. Carter Glass never had to deal with anybody like Joe Steele before, either.”
    Virginius Dabney blew